


Where My Armour Ends

by whereismywarden (PearOh)



Series: Dragon Age - Inquisitor Violette Surana - Sad Mages Worldstate [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Circle of Magi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mentions of the Fereldan Rebellion, Pre-Canon, The Gallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearOh/pseuds/whereismywarden
Summary: (Tumblr prompt) They're not friends, but Violette tries to comfort a grieving Orsino anyway.





	Where My Armour Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt for @keeperscompanionsdai: "Show me where my armor ends. Show me where my skin begins."

She never expected to make it into adulthood. Born of two miserable elves in Meghren's service, she had spent her childhood waiting for the mad king to pick her family as his next victims. And even if he didn't, it would only be a matter of time until the Fereldan rebels killed them all for the crime of being Orlesians.

Eventually, the rebels had come to Denerim. Prince Maric had fought Meghren and stuck his head on a pike. But by then, Violette had already jumped onto the first ship out of this blasted country. She had been thirteen at the time — a young age to be a lone elven girl in Thedas. Bad things happened to young elven girls all the time in Thedas. _It can't be worse than those stuck-up, selfish, stinking high-borns,_ she figured.

Oh, Maker, how wrong she'd been.

She needn't have worried about her future life on the streets, as it turned out. The Templars had already been waiting for her on Kirkwall's docks. One of the ship's crew had seen her practice her magic in the hold, lighting a candle or two, and sent a raven to the Chantry.

The Circle. That was what had hardened her. Not Meghren, not the Rebellion. The Gallows.

She'd been brought to that place over ten years ago. And now, here she was, all thick skin and sharp edges. Flesh made of stone and blood boiling with fire. She had witnessed so much pain and suffering in that place. She had lost a lot of friends to Tranquility, and too many others to failed Harrowings. One had escaped a few years ago, however. _For all the good it does the rest of us,_ she thought.

Violette had no friends anymore. The choice had been hers. No friends meant no broken hearts. Not hers, but theirs. She had a way of getting on the Templars' bad side, touching the wrong nerves and ending up in the dungeons more often than not. It was only a matter of time before they decided they would rather be rid of her for good. So, in the end, it was better for everyone if no one was too attached to her.

But Orsino had a friend. Maud, her name was. She had died a week ago. Frankly, Violette had never liked either of them. But the poor girl hadn't deserved her fate.

His bedroom door was opened. What followed might never have happened had the door been locked. But it was opened, and she happened to walk by at the right moment. Orsino was sitting by the window, his green eyes lost in the distance. Violette knocked on the door, perhaps a little more roughly than necessary given the circumstances.

He jumped at the sound and glared at her. “I have no time for your petty squabbles today, Violette.”

“I came to say—” She fidgeted for a second, unsure of what one was supposed to say in these situations. “—I'm sorry about Maud. She was a sweet girl.”

“What are you really doing here?” he huffed, sneering at her. “You don't care about people. In fact, you didn't even like Maud.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn't mean I wanted her dead. I may not care about people as much as you do, but I don't want anyone dead, you know.”

Except for that _connasse_ , Meredith. The templar had been a thorn in her side for years — ever since that _'incident'_ at Viscount Threnhold's banquet when Violette had drunk too much red wine and _'accidentally'_ puked all over the young knight's shining armour.

Closing the door behind her, Violette came to sit beside him. She took his hands between hers. That was what friendly people did to comfort each other, right?

“You don't have to go through this alone, Orsino.”

He stared at their intertwined hands, surprise written all over his face.

“I know what you think of me. That I'm a cold-hearted bitch, but—”

“Do you want to know what I really think?” he asked, his eyes moving up to meet hers. “I think there's a heart hidden under that rock armour you surround yourself with.” She let out a very unladylike snort. “I mean it. You pretend not to care — and you're putting on a great show, by the way — but deep down you do care. Perhaps even a little too much.”

“You're the one who cares too much, Orsino. Be careful or it will be your undoing.”

“You know I'm right, Violette, and it's driving you crazy.”

“Show me, then, where the armour ends and the skin begins.”

And this is when it happened. Maybe he wouldn't have kissed her, had he not been grieving. People did all sorts of stupid shits when they wanted to reduce their pain, after all. Or maybe he wouldn't have carried her to his bed, had she not kissed him back. She always did stupid shits like this too whenever she felt like it. Maybe… Maybe… _Maybe…_ Maybes didn't matter. All that mattered was that it happened and that her armour came off for a few minutes of passion.


End file.
